


Dark Inferno

by orphan_account



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Blood and Violence, F/F, Organized Crime, Romance, Strong Female Characters, Supernatural Elements, Team Rocket - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 06:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13699233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Team Rocket is rising again in Johto, but not without having to deal with threats from the outside. After she survives a weapons deal gone horribly wrong, a young woman searches for the human/Pokémon hybrid that attacked her, and learns of an ancient power that threatens everything that she has ever known, a power that she must learn to harness herself in order to survive.





	1. Chapter 1

In the south of Johto, Azaela Town was a gleaming tourist attraction, at least on the surface. But in the days of the First War of Black Smoke, Johto's Navy needed ships, and in those days ships were still made of wood, and the Ilex Forest was a proverbial gold mine of timber. So Johto sent a contingent of women to Ilex, and through their efforts, seventeen ships were built, and they proved to be the strongest naval fleet the world had yet to see. Legends said that the reason for this had been the small symbol carved into the wood of each ship, a symbol representing Celebi, the guardian of the forest. Not one sailor was lost so long as he remained under Celebi's protection. And so, Johto won the war.

Of course, most tourists didn't care about the rich history of Azaela Town. They just came to see the pretty flowers that had been planted in Celebi's honor, the same flowers for which the town was named. The lumber yards were still in operation, and still fruitful. To this day, one of Johto's main exports was the strong timber that came from Ilex Forest.

But the hidden side of Azaela Town was the rampant corruption that held it back. Legislation was stagnant, and crime was a fact of life. And seeing that the criminals and politicians had a sort of unspoken professional agreement, they left each other alone, for the most part.

One such criminal sat in a small corner cafe, drinking coffee and reading a psychology book, with her violet eyes stealing occasional glances of the slow evening traffic. Her attire of choice was akin to a common street punk, sporting a light blue wide collared t-shirt, matching leggings, a black skirt and black boots, until someone realized that common street punks didn't read psychology books outside coffee shops.

Casually, she checked the time on her phone, before turning back to her book. Four hours, eleven minutes, she thought. Focusing back on her book, she continued to read. The book attempted to explain in a mix of comedy and layman's terms what a romantic relationship was supposed to be, but the more the woman read the more obvious that it became that not only was the author not funny, but he clearly had never been in actual relationship before. Not that the woman had, either, but she was rather fond of sex. And as far as she was concerned, relationships were either about sex, money, or both.

"Uh, hello!"

Her thoughts were interrupted by a pleasant but hesitant voice. She turned to see a woman standing over her. "Hi," she said again, almost if she thought that she hadn't been heard. Her eyes were dark, her hair was wavy and brown, and she wore a simple black skirt and a knitted sweater with overly long sleeves that hid most of her hands. She looked like the kind of girl in a cheesy romance movie who would support her male best friend in chasing the perfect woman, only to realize that he had been in love with her all along. The mere thought of it almost made her throw up in her mouth. She was attractive, but it was her nervousness that caught her interest.

"So... I'm... Uh..." She paused and blew a raspberry, before beginning again. "I'm Emi. Well, uh, my name is Emi. I..."

"Do I know you, Emi?" the dark skinned woman asked, playing the aloof card, "Because if..."

"Well, no..." Emi backpedalled, "I'm not trying to be rude or anything... It's... I..." She swallowed, hoping to calm her nerves. "I just thought that you were pretty, uh, that you are pretty. And..."

"Oh." The 'punk' replied, making sure to stop to feign surprise. "Well, thank you. You don't look too terrible yourself. My name's Sumara."

Emi laughed a little, likely at the fact that that she was getting somewhere, with a bit of nerves mixed in as well. "Well, hi Sumara!" She smiled. Sumara smiled back. It was half fake and half amused at such a cliché. The classic ''pretty girl who has no confidence,' trope. Sumara almost cut her off right there, but she was bored and she figured that going a couple rounds with Emi would help kill the next few hours. That old familiar itch had come back, and she wasn't intent on scratching it by herself.

Emi's eyes flitted to and fro before settling back on the other girl. "Can I be honest with you about something?" she asked, her voice sounding like she was beginning to falter. Sumara nodded. She didn't want her to lose her nerve, so she nodded. "Ah, that's good. Well..." Emi paused to scratch the back of her head, "I've never really been this, well, forward, with anyone. Usually I just wind up sitting by myself."

"By yourself? I can't see that." Sumara chuckled. "You're much too pretty to be alone." Emi turned bright red and started pulling at her sleeves again. "I mean, not to embarrass you or anything..."

"No, no!" Emi almost shouted, drawing a meager amount of attention from the only other customer, before he turned back to his newspaper. "I mean, thank you. I'm not good at flirting. But I... I like your eyes. They're a pretty color."

"Thank you." Sumara replied. "They aren't really anything out of the ordinary where I'm from, but it's certainly nice to hear."

Emi grinned, her newfound confidence emboldening her. "Yeah. Secondary colors are my favorites. Nothing better than a sunset, am I right?"

"Which isn't very far off," Sumara added, before turning to look at the coffee shop. "Speaking of which, I don't think that we're going to be welcome for very much longer. Maybe we should consider taking this conversation somewhere more," she paused to bite her bottom lip, "comfortable."

Emi blushed even harder than before and made a weak attempt to stammer out a response, before deciding it was in vain and meekly whispering, "O-OK.". Sumara smirked and took a final sip of her coffee. Her prey was in her claws.

Unsurprisingly, Emi was as clumsy and inexperienced in bed as she was with her words. Sumara had to give her credit, though. What she lacked in talent she made up for in determination. She had practically worshipped Sumara. Not that Sumara minded. She felt that she deserved it. And Emi had been thoroughly rewarded, of course. Given the fact that she had all the experience of a horny fourteen year old boy, she had melted in Sumara's hands without any real effort on her part.

Hell, Sumara thought, it was almost like she'd never even thought about sex before.

Sumara glanced down at Emi, who lay asleep on top of her, with her arms wrapped around Sumara's waist, and a slight smile on her face. She really was a picture of beauty like that. Her hair pooled on Sumara's chest, and in a sudden moment of clarity Sumara realized that she had been stroking her fingers through it. She pulled her hand quickly, before chastising herself.

Pretty or not, she's just a girl. Just another easy lay.

Damn, she smelled nice though, even with the undertone of sweat and sex.

Still, Sumara felt unsettled. That wasn't like her. It was probably just the lack of sleep getting to her. Speaking of which, she still had three hours until midnight...

...

Darkness. Everlasting, eternal, darkness.

...

Sumara stirred at the sound of her phone ringing. She fumbled blindly for her phone, while Emi shifted on her chest. Somehow, in her sleep-induced haze she brought the phone up to her ear and answered it.

"What?!" The person on the other line yelled at someone in the background, "Fuck off, Jenkins! Sumara? That you? It's Dai. Sorry, Jenkins was being a little bitch."

Still half asleep, Sumara heard Emi mutter, "Son of a bitch..."

"What the hell are you calling me for?" Sumara almost spat.

"First of all, knowing you, you were probably over-sleeping. Second, I'm calling to let you know that Eiji is out."

"What do you mean he's out? Who's filling in for him?"

"It's a bitch to tell you thus, but three rookies."

"Are you fucking kidding me?! Roo..."

"Not my shot to call. Only reason you aren't going solo is because those boxes are heavy as my step-mother's sister. Woman weighs about three times what I do. Just get down here. And please tell me you aren't drunk."

"Goodbye." Sumara hung up on Dai before he could tack on any more bad news. Dai had a habit of calling with bad news. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time he had called her with good news.

"E-everything alright?" Emi asked, pushing her up off of Sumara and rolling onto the bed itself.

"That was work." her bedmate explained, "I have to go. Now."

"Now?!" It's ten past midnight!"

"It's complicated," Sumara offered as got out of bed and began the process of finding her clothes. "Night shift is out sick. I'm supposed to fill in."

"Does this happen often?" Emi pestered as she sat up with the thin sheets clutched tightly over chest. Sumara didn't know what she was doing that for, though. She'd already seen them. She liked them.

Opening her mouth to respond, Sumara tried to think of an excuse, but she kept coming back to wanting to get back into bed and ravish Emi again. But she couldn't. She had a job to do. Finally, as she pulled on her shirt, she lied and said, "I'll call you.," before running out the door, her underwear in her hands.

The walk between Emi's apartment and Sumara's was only a couple blocks, and the spring air was refreshing in Sumara's lungs. She didn't have a lot of time to waste, so she hurried inside and changed into her uniform.

Of all the things Sumara hated about her job, it was the uniforms. The giant red 'R' on her shirt just screamed suspicious. The skirt was too short and too tight and it drew too much attention to her ass, which she got enough looks at already. And the boots were just uncomfortable. Looking herself over in the mirror, she sighed and grabbed the belt on her dresser, the one with three Ultra Balls connected to it. She took one in her hand and rubbed her thumb against the characters engraved in the expensive plastic.

"We ride again, partner."

Summa arrived at the warehouse fifteen minutes later. With a single nod, she passed by the two armed guards. Sumara then entered the warehouse, only to be accosted by the sound of Unovan gangsta rap. She approached a table near the entrance, where two uniformed men sat playing poker.

"Ichiro, you son of bitch," the gray-haired woman cursed, "didn't Petrel tell you to knock that shit off?"

One of the men laughed and looked at her over his shoulder with a sly grin. "Petrel said to stop blasting it during runs. He didn't say anything about when we're on break."

"And besides," the other man said, "walls are soundproof. You could cut up an Exploud with a boxcutter and you wouldn't hear shit if you're outside."

Sumara glanced from one man to the other. They both had the same black hair in the same simple haircut and the same blue eyes. Ichiro and Jiro. The Twins, as people called them, which was in Sumara's opinion a call-sign devoid of any creativity or meaning. But as annoying as they were sometimes, Sumara was glad to see them alive. "Who's winning?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"This bastard right here," Jiro pointed at himself. Jiro always won, because everyone knew for a fact that Ichiro had shit luck at cards and that he always itched at the small horizontal scar underneath his right eye whenever he had a bad hand. Sumara didn't think he even knew he was doing it.

As if on cue, Ichiro scratched his scar again. Jiro shifted nervously. He remembered why Ichiro had that scar, and he didn't like him scratching it. Remembering Sumara's presence, he turned to her and asked, "Want me to deal you in? I'm on a hot streak."

"Only because you keep giving me shit cards," Ichiro grumbled, before taking a overly long sip of his beer, his brother watching him wordlessly.

"Sorry guys, but I'm not here to chit-chat. I'm rolling some donuts." 'Rolling some donuts,' of course, meant moving weapons. "I should probably report in. Oh, and Ichiro?" she added as she began to walk away, "Your brother has a worse hand than that."

"Oh fuck you!" Jiro yelled after he jokingly as Ichiro immediately called. "So much for my hot streak."

Sumara continued through the building, the sound of Ichiro's music fading as she went along. It was a quiet night, considering what it was like when there was a big job going on. Sumara was going to be doing anything big, though. Gun running was ironically the safest job Team Rocket did. But it was a necessary one. If they were going to take over Goldenrod, then they were going to need to be armed to the teeth. The cops certainly were. They had to be, if you had civilians walking around with living, breathing killing machines at their sides. According to their agents inside ATPD, the lazy and inefficient police force still had two shoulder mounted rocket launchers in their armory, (but oddly enough, no rockets.)

According to what they had heard, Goldenrod City had fucking tanks.

Sumara entered the briefing room. Dai was waiting for her. His hair was long and white, and his eyes were a cold and calculating blue-green, and it looked like he hadn't shaved in three or four days. "Looks like Little Miss Full-of-Herself decided to show up. You're late."

"And I outrank you." Sumara shot back. Her jest wasn't exactly true- Dai did have command of their unit- but they both knew that Sumara was more likely to stay should anything change. "Now who are these rookies?"

Dai handed her a tablet, which currently was displaying information about two people. Sumara looked back at the commander. "You said three rookies."

He shrugged. "There's a nasty bug going around. Try not to catch it. You're one of the only good ones left healthy. You see someone sneeze, get the bitch out of there." He took the tablet back. Besides, it was an executive decision. We realized that we had four people, and no one who can speak Unovan. How the hell are we supposed to buy weapons off Unovans, if you can't speak Unovan? Jenkins told me himself. That's what he was trying to tell me when I called you."

"I can speak Unovan," Sumara interrupted.

Dai looked at her with a mix of regret and anger. Are you kidding me?" Sumara shook her head, prompting Dai to throw his arms up in the air. "Well, it's too late to take Jenkins off the mission now. You're driving." Ha added, before throwing her a key. "Take Van 4. And grab a rifle. I don't trust the Unovans anymore than I trust my brother to do something smart."

Van 4 was quite possibly the worst of the five vans the Azaela branch had. Van 1, for example, was a stolen armored truck that had come from a bank robbery that went a bit awry. Van 4 was the kind of van that child molesters drove in crime dramas, except with metal plates 'welded' on the inside. 'Welded,' because no one involved had any idea what the hell they were doing at the time, and they never bothered to revisit it. Sumara swore that van would be the death of her one day. Not to mention that the radio was busted, so it only played electronic dance music, which gave her a headache. Luckily, her passengers were fine without it.

Jenkins, a wiry brown haired man in his late twenties, whistled softly behind her. Sumara wasn't really a fan of Jenkins. Jenkins had been a sleeper unit for Team Plasma, back when they had some idea of what the hell they were doing. When Team Plasma went down the drain, ten well trained people joined the Azaela branch. But as far as Sumara was concerned, Jenkins was a douchebag. He catcalled most of the women he saw, and he had hassled her a dozen times before she had slammed his head into the side of Van 4, which was why there was a big dent in it. He had left her alone since, but he hadn't stopped completely. Hopefully one of the Unovans would shoot him.

Sumara didn't know much about the two rookies, except that they were both coincidentally from Sinnoh and that they mostly kept to themselves during the drive. Sumara was glad about the latter, but it didn't calm her nerves.

The van pulled up to the rendezvous point deep in the industrial part of town, and, unsurprisingly, the Unovans had yet to arrive. Their leader, Clark, had seen a few too many movies for his own good and decided that he was a top notch criminal. He was an idiot, but his men knew what they were doing, and at the moment they were content with the current situation. It worked for them, and worked for Team Rocket.

The four Team Rocket members got out of the van and took positions around it. Sumara pulled out one of her Ultra Balls and released her partner, a Quilava named Jahim. Jahim puffed out his flame collar. He wasn't exactly pleased to be woken, but he was ready for action. Sumara squatted next to him and gave him a scratch beneath the chin. "Game time, Jahim You ready?" He nodded, eager to get through the deal.

Jenkins, indifferent to the Fire type, opened up the back of the van and started passing out rifles to his comrades. One of the rookies, a blond named Kaede, if Sumara remembered right, looked at him like he had never seen a gun before in his life. "The fuck am I supposed to do with this?" He asked when Jenkins handed him the weapon. Jenkins looked like he felt tempted to take the gun from him and beat him to death with it.

"Put it back if you don't know what you're doing!" yelled the other rookie, a dark-skinned man with a buzz cut who Sumara didn't remember the name of and couldn't be bothered to ask, "I didn't serve three years to get my head blown off by some idiot!" Kaede flipped him off and threw the gun back in the van, only to jump out of his skin when the noise of it hitting the metal startled him. Sumara had a strong urge to pump him full of bullets.

Instead, she walked over to the other rookie, who was standing by the front of the van. "You served?" she pressed, earning a shrug from the man, like it was something minor.

"Three years with the New Imperial Air Force. I flew a VT-Skarmory in combat missions. That's your standard troop transport and fire support chopper. Three years." He shook his head. "Wish I had that time back."

"Why? What happened out there?"

He shook his head. "Nothing that I'd tell a stranger. Besides, it's a long story." The rookie laughed, possibly to calm his nerves, but cut himself off suddenly when he saw the black van driving towards them. It stopped ten feet from their own vehicle, and three men got out. They wasted little time in pulling the large matte gray case out of the back of the van and bringing it in front. Sumara handed her rifle to the rookie and approached them.

"Hello," Sumara greeted in Unovan, "how are you gentlemen tonight?"

A bald, olive skinned man with a scruffy black beard, who she recognized as Rico, grinned at her. "Not bad, baby, not bad." He squatted next to the case and flipped it open, before turning it for her to see. "But not as well as I'm about to be doin'."

Sumara looked in awe at the contents of the case. There it was, a genuine Unovan Thunder Rifle TR-2C, the very latest in Unovan weapons technology. "She's even more beautiful than you, baby," Rico glowed, "This bad girl can chuck a big slug of tungsten three miles. She can punch a hole through a Bastiodon's face, baby. And she comes with ammo, too, but you could use this beauty to shoot down a military chopper with a soda can!" He slapped the case and laughed. Sumara couldn't help but crack a smile. "Magnets. They are truly incredible."

"Sounds like I have a new girlfriend," Sumara quipped. Rico laughed again. She turned to Kaede. "Grab the money," she ordered, flawlessly switching from Unovan to Kantonese.

Kaede looked at her like she had six heads. "What money?"

"The fucking money in the two fucking black suitcases!" Kaede scurried back to grab the cash. Sumara turned back to Rico. "New guy." she explained.

"I feel you baby." The Unovan replied, before turning to Kaede and saying, "Let me see that," in Kantonese. Rico's Kantonese wasn't as good as Sumara's Unovan, but he got his point across to the blond coward, who handed him a single briefcase. Rico looked from the briefcase, to Kaede, to Sumara, who was rubbing her forehead in agitation. "Hey, idiot!" Rico yelled, "she said two briefcases!" Kaede yelped and ran back behind the van.

Next to Sumara, Jahim growled. Rico stood up and drew a revolver with wood in the grip. "The hell's going on, baby?" Sumara didn't answer, as she was looking around, trying to figure out what was happening.

Kaede returned and threw the other case on the ground. "There's your fuck-in' money!" He cursed, holding his arms wide. "Are you happy now?!" But before his arms dropped to sides, a large, orange shape flew from the shadows above and ripped a fist-sized chunk out of his head. He was dead before he even knew anything had happened.

"TRAINER!" Rico yelled, but in the confusion it sounded like he had yelled 'Traitor.' One of his men heard this and promptly shot Jenkins in the chest before he realized that Kaede was dead. Rico yelled at him and smacked him hard in the face with his revolver. "Get the money and go!" He ordered, before grabbing one of the briefcases and jumping back in the van. The man who shot Jenkins whipped around in confusion, only for their mysterious attacker to fly down and grab him with razor sharp talons. Sumara, not taking any chances, grabbed the handheld railgun out the case and hurried it into the back of the van.

As Sumara took her rifle back from the rookie, she took a long, hard look at the beast as it rose into the air. It didn't look like a Pokémon. It looked like a man. It looked like a man with orange skin, massive leathery dragon wings growing out of its back, and giant claws on its hands and feet. Of course, she didn't care what it was. She just wanted it dead. She brought the gun to bear and fired a short burst, striking the beast in the back. It roared in pain, and Sumara felt a bit of relief when she saw the blood spurt from its wounds. Whatever this thing was, if it could bleed, it could be killed.

The dragon dropped the man it had grabbed, who fell limply to the ground, his shoulders torn and ruined. It darted away again, and it felt like the Earth beneath them was shaking when it flapped its wings. Rico started to drive away, only for a blast of purple and orange energy to hit the van. The rookie shot at the space the blast had come from, and the beast roared again.

Another gunshot barked behind Sumara. Jenkins, as it seemed, was still alive, but it wasn't looking good, considering that his shirt was wet with blood. The dragon turned, and threw a second fireball, this time at the Team Rocket members. The explosion hit in front of the van, and Sumara heard the rookie scream in pain. The former pilot limped out of the fire, his left leg still burning, and climbed into the van through the passenger side door.

Jenkins fired at the dragon again, which had ignored them for a second when it realized that Rico was still alive, and that he was getting away. But before it could do anything, Jenkins fired again. "Go!" he screamed at Sumara, "Go! Get the hell out of here!"

Sumara didn't need to be told twice. As Jenkins opened up again, she returned Jahim before making a break for it. She darted back to the van and started it up, before speeding past Jenkins as he continued to fire at the monster. Jenkins watched the van go out of the corner of his eye, before his gun was slapped out his hands by its wing. It grabbed him by the throat, its eyes dark.

"You fight well, and bravely," it growled, before stabbing him with the last claw on its wing, "you do not deserve this death."

Jenkins fell to his knees, and glared up at the beast. "Go fuck yourself," he spat defiantly, before collapsing to the ground. The beast shook its head, as it wounds became painfully more apparent. With a flap of its wings it took flight, disappearing into the warm spring night, leaving the three bodies to rot.


	2. Enforcer

The Lake of Rage was unusually calm for a spring night. Often times it was engulfed in violent and unexplained thunderstorms, and such storms often drove the Magikarp in the lake to evolve. And as Gyarados was legendary for its aggression and destruction, most of the newly evolved Pokémon would be dead by the time the storm settled. One local legend spoke of a Gyarados with red scales that had survived a hundred thousand storms. But it was just that- a legend.

What wasn't a legend, however, was the half man, half dragon flying high over the lake, its wings cutting through the air sloppily. The dragon's wounds were beginning to catch up with it, much as the ground was beginning to rise up to meet it. Seeing that it was close to its destination, the dragon succumbed to exhaustion and simply fell out of the sky. It crashed into the northern bank of the lake causing a spray of sand and a few nearby Murkrow to scatter.

Suddenly, the dragon glowed an orange-purple that grew in intensity that would have been blinding if anyone had been around. Then, as quickly as it began, the light died away. Where there had been one, now there were two.

The first was a Dragonite, the so-called gentle dragon. Many people thought of Dragonite as a protector or guardian, a defender of the weak with near-infinite strength. But as the Dragon type lay bleeding in the crater of sand, this was clearly proven false.

The second being was a man in similar condition to his Pokémon. He was naked, save for the grits of sand that clung to him, and the blood that wept from his body. Unlike the Dragonite, the man was conscious, and slowly, he began to crawl out of the crater. His legs felt weak, and his head was still dazed from the transformation.

He stopped, panting as he gazed at his destination- a small, traditional house, built fifty feet from the shore. A light turned on in one window, and then the front door opened. A young woman ran out, intending to help him. The man smiled when he saw her. He knew that he would survive.

"Any particular reason why you're fucking naked?!" She yelled to him. She was a cheeky one like that. In the dawn light he could just begin to make out the hand tattooed on the right side of her face. He hated that mark, and what it meant. But he would not complain now. He knew better than that.

Red light broke the through the air, and the Dragonite d-materialized with it. The woman stood over him, and laughed. "You look like shit, Lance."

Executive Petrel Lambda was not a patient man, and this was a fact known by all those under him. Most of his men thought of him as a coward and a sleeve, but they were far from the truth. Petrel was, in reality, someone trying to make the best of a terrible situation. His words were intended to cut, and his orders were strict, but this was simply because he gave a damn about whether his men lived or died. Maybe it was because unlike Archer, the Director, he had a family. His father had once told him that the most ruthless soldiers often had no reason to relate to their opponents.

This was something that he believed as well.

But at the moment, Petrel wasn't thinking about Archer's insane plans or his time spent in the war. What he cared about was seeing his daughter. He'd already been told seven times that she was alright, and that the meager medical staff they had were simply being absolutely sure of her health. If he had been in his right mind he would commended them for their commitment, but now was not the time for that.

Finally, the door opened, and that familiar gray hair came out. "Sumara!" he cried, throwing himself around her, "I'm so glad that you're alright."

Sumara shrugged him off. "Hey, so am I." She sighed. "I brought the railgun. Probably could have gotten myself killed doing that."

Petrel shook his head. "Why? What good are you dead? I'm not burying you, Sumara. I refuse to. You have to be careful. Come on. We talk more in my office."

Petrel's office was the only room in the warehouse that had been furnished by the original owners, likely as an office for an overseer or a manager. Since Petrel spent little time in it, he hadn't improved upon the uncomfortable chairs and small desk. All that was on the desk was a framed picture of Sumara when she was twelve, a hardy potted cactus, and a heaping of dust. Petrel went behind it and pulled out a bottle of vodka and and two shot glasses.

"You take too many risks," the Executive chastised her as he poured the drinks. Sumara didn't respond, only taking one of the glasses and knocking it back. "And you drink too fast. You're starting to have a problem."

"Please," Sumara snarked, "this is the cheap shit. Who keeps good vodka in a shit in a shit warehouse? No one." She swiped her father's glass before he could say anything and pounded that one too.

Petrel sighed, taking the glass back from his daughter. "You know, your people don't look fondly on drinking..."

"Ah, yes, Fi-Alshams!" Sumara said sarcastically, "The Land of the Sun! Mountains higher than the heavens, deserts that rip away your flesh, and people who are about as interesting and relatable as an old war documentary." She scoffed. "I'm glad they're dead."

'They,' being her real parents. A Fi-Alshams businessman who was as about as corrupt as Azalea Town had become, and his wife. They were kidnapped, robbed, and murdered, all by some two bit criminal who was now on the City Council. Sumara had been left for dead in an alley, as the crook didn't have the nerve to kill her outright. It was a miracle that Petrel had found her, and a miracle that they had both survived.

Sumara was glad it had happened. Fi-Alshams was a bigger political hellhole than Unova. And Petrel, for all his flaws, had been a damn good father, considering the situation. He'd starved himself for her more than once. But now he was in a comfortable position, and Sumara had a paycheck of her own.

"So..." Petrel said, taking his glass back from his daughter, "What the hell happened? I talked to the rookie, but he's half delirious and not exactly in the mood for talking. He'll live though, which is good. But maybe that's just the veteran in me talking."

Sumara shrugged. "We got hit by something. A... A hybrid, I'd say. It was fast. Faster than anything I'd ever seen before. It was like a man... And a..."

Her father flinched at those words. "What did it look like?!" he demanded, almost dropping his glass, "Did it look like a Charizard?! Did it? Like a man and Charizard combined?"

Sumara tried to remember. Everything had been so clear in heat of the moment. But now that the adrenaline rush had faded away, the details were fuzzy. "I..." She shook her head. "It was orange, and it was a dragon."

"Gods above." Petrel muttered.

"What?"

The aging man lowered his head with a sigh. "I've been waiting for this day. Waiting for him to return." He frowned. "I never told what really happened to Giovanni, did I? It's not a story many that people would believe."

"What happened?"

Her father didn't answer right away, instead taking a swing straight from the bottle. "Everyone knows the basics. Some kid about your age kept showing up at the worst times. Silph Co. Pokémon Tower. Like he knew exactly where we were. He had a Charizard. But here's where things get... Weird." He sighed again. " Giovanni had an... Interest, in the supernatural. Specifically, the legends about the old Gods. Even more specifically, the war between the Gods. How they all slaughtered each other and their blood rained down from the heavens for ten days. About those marked by the blood had... Powers. Giovanni had convinced himself that he had these powers. Are you with me so far?"

Sumara nodded. "I'm gonna need another shot for this..."

Her father half-smiled and poured her another. "Good. You'll need it." He slid it over and continued. "That was why we went to Pokémon Tower. I was a mere grunt at the time, so at the time, I didn't really know what was going on. All I had was the a pistol and a Koffing when he showed up. So I let him in. Probably the best and worst decision I ever made. Ten guys were sent there. Two got out. Two guys," he repeated for emphasis, "The other guy was an old buddy of mine. He ran out of there holding his intestines in with his hands. He never told me what exactly happened. He died two years ago. Liver cancer. Poor fuck drank himself to death, trying to forget."

Sumara leaned forward, intrigued. "So what happened?"

Petrel nodded. The next time they saw him was the Silph Co. job. I wasn't on that mission but I knew it was because Giovanni wanted all their R&D data, specifically that considering genetic engineering. I found out a few years ago that he was interested in a military contract that was codenamed False God. I don't know exactly what it was, considering the amount of black ink on the files, but it seemed like the Kantonese government was as interested in those legends as well." He paused. "We didn't think that it would be particularly difficult."

Sumara had another drink, but as she listened to her father's story, she detected an odd smell. A pleasant one. In a flash, she remembered what it was. That fucking girl, she thought, What the hell was her name? She had always been shit with names. Why the hell she was so hung up on a casual lay, however, that was a different question.

Sumara tuned back into her father's story. "...but of course, we didn't know that he was following us. How could we have known? How could he even follow us?"

"How?"

"Fucked if I know." Petrel replied, "but follow us he did. There was a meeting one night. Giovanni gathered all his biggest cronies. Archer and the like. I was there too. Security detail. And who shows up but old Red himself. We called him Red because of his hat. He... He drew a knife. Cut his palm. Like this." The man mimed closing his hand around a knife and dragging the blade out. "Then he... Pressed his hand to it. The Charizard." He dropped the imaginary knife. "I don't think I can talk about what happened next. But only three people walked out of that room. Myself. Archer. Proton. Archer... Came out different. Proton and I swore never to tell anyone what really happened."

Sumara didn't respond. The weight of what her father was telling her was too much. She knew what he was like. Petrel was a criminal, but in the twenty two years he had raised her not once had he lied to her. Maybe it was a blessing. Or maybe it was a curse.

Petrel could see the look in his daughter's eyes. "I'm giving you the week. No ops. Take a break. Sleep. Eat. Shit. I don't care. I don't want you around for this. It... It's different this time. Red never would have gone after a drop. Personally, I think he was after the same thing Giovanni was. But that doesn't matter now. What matters is my family. You. Go home."

"Do you just expect me to sit around on my ass for a week?"

"I don't expect you to do anything. I want you to live."

Sumara took her father's advise. It wasn't like she had any choice, but she certainly wasn't the worst idea. She didn't want to catch the bug that Dai had mentioned, and she needed the sleep. The first day was mostly spent in bed. She slept most of the day, and when she couldn't sleep anymore she watched the news.

Of course, calling it 'news' was generous. It was all just more of the same. Sinnoh wanted out of the New Imperial Union, and Kanto wasn't having any of it. Unova was about to break into civil war, having been so politically divided that compromise had been rendered impossible. Kalos and its neighbors were squabbling over economic disputes.

The world was a giant fucking mess. Azalea Town was small mess. Something more Sumara's speed.

The second day saw the warm air pull back. Winter wasn't just done with Johto yet. The temperatures fell twenty degrees back into the high forties. Meteorologists were baffled. The more superstitious citizens just assumed it was Articuno's bones rattling in her grave. But Sumara didn't mind the cold. Fi-Alshams was a desert after all, and deserts were known both for their burning days as well as their frigid nights. In fact, she preferred the cold.

When she woke up that morning, she decided to at least enjoy herself on her forced vacation. Unfortunately, there were few things that Sumara truly enjoyed, and she had no friends outside of Team Rocket. Which was by choice, given that she disliked the vast majority of people.

Pokémon, on the other hand, she understood. Jahim had been with her for years, training alongside her. He was a fitting partner. The Typhlosion line had its roots in Fi-Alshams,.where it had been the only beast strong enough to kill the steel armored Scolipede that dominated the food chain. They lived for a long time as well. Charizard, for instance, only lived for twenty years, but Typhlosion was a species that could live nearly as long as a human.

So, Sumara left her apartment, Jahim's Ultra Ball secure in the pocket of the athletic pants she wore. She would have preferred him to walk beside her, but Azalea Town's laws forbade it. They had learned the dangers of fire the hard way. It was an old law, but it still held bite. She'd received a citation for it before.

Sumara headed towards the center of town, Everbloom Park. It was an old place, with trees so old that they been scarred by the same fire that had taken thousands of souls. The flowers there were always in full bloom, which often was attributed to the lingering influence of Celebi, the God of Vegetation and Spring. There were large sand filled pits in this park, where Pokémon Trainers came to battle one another.

When Sumara arrived, only a handful of people were in the park. There was only one battle going on, between an Eelektross and a Cacturne, and the Cacturne was having the shit kicked out of beaten out of it. Sumara wasn't surprised. The Eelektross' Trainer was a graying man, whereas the Cacturne belonged to a much younger man. Experience ruled this day. When the Cacturne fell, it's Trainer laughed, and congratulated his better. Such courtesy was rare.

"Sumara?"

The woman in question turned around to see a familiar looking woman sitting on a bench behind her. "Hi! It's me!" She faltered suddenly. "E-Emi? Remember?"

Sumara remembered. She remembered her face, and her smell, and how clumsy she was with her words and her actions. "Emi!" she recalled loudly, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm not very good with names. I'm good with faces, just not with names." She laughed and ran a hand through her hair. "I would have called, but I didn't get your number!"

Emi smiled again. Sumara liked her smile. There was something instinctively pleasing about that she couldn't pin down. "I know, you kinda left in a hurry. Did everything work out alright?" The gray-haired woman nodded and waved Emi off. "Well, that's good to hear. What do you do, anyways?"

"Security," Sumara replied automatically, "Freelance. Well, not freelance exactly. Freelance in the sense that I work for company that manages freelance people. A bank needed an extra set of hands with a drop-off, and the guy who usually does that kind of job caught the flu. It wasn't too much of a pain in the ass." She shrugged. "Alright if I sit?"

"Of course!" Emi said, before picking up the notebook that had been taking up the seat. "It's really good to see you again." Sumara realized that she sounded a lot more confident than she when they had just met. "You know, to be honest, some crazy part of me thought that maybe I had just imagined you." She shook her head. "Guess I was wrong, wasn't I?"

"I guess so." They shared a laugh. "So, Emi, what brings you here? Are you a Trainer?"

"Actually, y..." Emi stopped, "Well, no. Sorry." Sumara shot her a confused look. "It's complicated. But not a Trainer. Not anymore, anyways." She pulled at the scarf around her neck. "I... I'd rather talk about something else."

"Alright," the gray-haired woman said, "So... What's in the notebook? State secrets? Family recipes?"

Emi shook her head. "Actually, it's, well, they're drawings. Still-lives, mostly." She brushed a few dark brown strands of hair out of her face. "I don't want to brag, but... I think I'm pretty good at it."

"Can I see?"

"Sure!" Emi handed her the notebook. "There's not a lot in there, because it's a rather new notebook, but I'm proud of what's in there."

"Woah," Sumara almost whispered. She was looking at Emi's most recent work, a preliminary sketch of the Eelektross she had just seen. She flipped through a bit more, and came upon another drawing. "Is this me?"

"Yeah," Emi confirmed,"I hope that isn't creepy or anything..."

"No, I... I like it." The drawing depicted her the day she met, when she was sitting out in front of the coffee shop. "What am I looking at here? In the picture, I mean."

"I don't know. You... You just, were looking at something. I suppose that you were looking at the traffic, but I got the sense that you were looking past it." Emi shrugged, and then giggled a little. "Or maybe I just instinctively like drawing profiles. I don't really know."

Sumara stared at her paper self for a single silent moment, before looking back at Emi. "Aren't you warm? You're dressed pretty warm."

Emi looked down at herself like she had been dressed without her own permission. She was wearing a chester coat and a turtleneck, as well as gloves and a scarf. "It's a medical thing," she confessed, "My body doesn't do very well in the cold. My fingers and toes start to get numb if I take a cold shower. It didn't come up much in Hoenn, but... Johto's a different place."

"Sorry to hear that. You look nice, though." Sumara meant that, too. In fact, she was being extremely honest with Emi, considering her usual habits. For example, the only reason that she'd told Emi her real name was because she used to go by Alex until she ran into a Unovan woman who was also named Alex. "Orange is a good color for you."

"Really?" the pale girl asked, "I certainly don't feel like it..."

"Don't bullshit yourself," the Fi-Alshamii cut her off, "I'd say you're classically beautiful." The fuck am I talking about, she thought, Why am I sucking her dick like this in the first place? If I want to fuck her, all I half to do is ask. In fact...

Sumara opened her mouth to continue, but before she could get very far she was interrupted by a third voice. "He-llo ladies," the voice said. Sumara turned to see a man standing over her left side. Judging by the expensive polo shirt he wore, the fancy way he styled his sand-colored hair, and the suggestive note in his voice, she deduced that he was a self-important rich blowhard who expected them to drop to their knees drooling at the sight of him.

"What do you want?" Sumara sneered at him.

He smirked at her. "I simply wanted to battle. This is a place for Trainers, no?" He chuckled before adding, "If there is something else that you might want afterwards... That could be arranged..."

Emi cleared her throat as if she was about to say something in response, but Sumara jumped in before she could. "Sure, let's go. I'd like to see what monstrosity your daddy bought you so you'd forget that your balls haven't dropped yet." She stood up, and took pleasure not only in the look of utter rage on his face, but also the fact that she was taller than him. She leisurely stepped over to the nearest sandy pit and withdrew Jahim's Ultra Ball.

"You're going to regret those words," the rich boy stated, "You are going to be crawling on your hands and knees, begging, for my forgiveness." He drew an Ultra Ball of his own. "Go!"

Ah, he's a very rich blowhard, Sumara thought as the Garchomp materialized before her. Garchomp was a dangerous species. However, Sumara knew that it had a fatal flaw. Its pre-evolution, Gabite, was an intelligent pack hunters that were known for their sense of strategy. Garchomp abandoned its brethren when it evolved, however, and it sacrificed its intelligence for raw power.

A flash of light occurred a second later, shining every color of the rainbow. The young man must have been excessively wealthy if was able to afford a Mega Stone for his already expensive and dangerous Pokémon. He was also exceeding idiotic if he thought that it was a good idea.

Sumara released Jahim. The Quilava took one look at the the severely overpowered Pokémon that held an extreme type advantage over it, and yawned.

"Dragon Claw!" The challenger roared, and his Garchomp charged forwards, its scythe-like appendages glowing blue with draconic energy. Jahim, unfazed, ducked under the slash, and weaved in between the Ground type's leg before shooting it in the back with a Flamethrower. Both Pokémon slid in the dirt, now on the opposite side from their Trainer.

"Again!" The man roared. The Garchomp met his voice with a roar of its own, and charged once more. This yielded results identical to the previous attempt, except this time, instead of blasting the monstrous Pokémon with fire, Jahim leaped onto his opponent's back, before lunging at the Garchomp's neck with Crunch. The Dragon type spun around in pain, trying to dislodge its attacker, but Jahim held tight onto Garchomp's vestigial yet sensitive gills like a rodeo cowboy rode a Tauros.

Finally, Jahim was thrown off, and he skidded to a halt near Sumara. The Garchomp turned to his Trainer and let out a pained growl. Blood fell from its neck and dripped down to the sand below, and that very same blood stained Jahim teeth. "Shadow Claw." Sumara suggested, and Jahim nodded before darted towards his prey. Their opponent barked an order to his Pokémon, but the Garchomp ignored him, instead choosing to counter Jahim in its own way. Which was a wise decision, but the Garchomp didn't realize that it had been fooled.

Dark magic flowed around Jahim's front paws, as the Garchomp crossed its blades in front of it. But Jahim stopped suddenly, only to stand up on his hind legs and fire off a Shadow Ball. The Garchomp, unable to dodge in time, was struck in the head. Dazed, it looked back, only to see Jahim crash into him in a suicidal Flare Blitz attack. It's neck snapped back as three vertibrae crunched into broken pieces. The Garchomp staggered back, reverting back to its original state, and dig its scythed arms into the ground in order to brace itself.

"Concede," Sumara ordered as Jahim circled the barely conscious Pokémon. "Concede before I make you concede."

"What gives you the right..." he growled, but he didn't finish. Sumara flicked her head, prompting Jahim to spit an Ember into the wound on the Garchomp's neck. It shuddered in pain, too weak to make any other sound. Grimacing, he returned his Pokémon. "You'll regret this. I swear on the Conroy family name. You will." He walked off, tossing his Ultra Ball in his hand.

Sumara shook her head, before looking back down at Jahim. "Hey, you alright?" Jahim gave her a single nod. "Good." She squatted next to him and scratched his head. "Good."

"That was... A thing." The victor turned to see Emi standing behind her, flipping her notebook up and down in her hand. "I mean..."

"He deserved it." Sumara replied. "He was an obnoxious blowhard. Probably expected us to suck him off right here in the fuck-in' park." She spat on the ground. "The nerve of some people..." She glanced back at Emi, and noticed the look of discomfort. "Hey..."

"No, no. It's not that. Well, actually, that's part of it..." She sighed softly. "I'm sorry. Maybe the cold is starting to get to me. Can we talk somewhere else? Somewhere warmer?"

"My apartment is pretty warm." Sumara suggested, only for Emi's pale face to turn bright red. "I mean to talk, Emi. Yeesh. You're quick to make assumptions. Come on."


End file.
